Self-Sacrifice
by 12reader
Summary: D'Artagnan's need to prove himself is such that he allows Athos, Porthos and Aramis to basically make him their servant, plus his regular recruit duties and missions. Treville notices something wrong with his favored recruit and it is time to put his foot down! Can D'Artagnan be helped before he willingly works himself to death? (Oblivious Musketeers, sick!D'Artagnan)
1. Something is Wrong

D'Artagnan had thought that he'd proven himself to be a worthy recruit of the Musketeers; at least he thought so, after nearly getting himself blown up by Vadim. Saving Athos from his crazed, bloodthirsty former wife and being sworn to secrecy, which he would keep 'til his dying day. Taking a whipping for the king and nearly getting himself killed a number of times in the line of duty; he was still working on letting his head rule his heart. He still wanted to receive a commission but most of all, he wanted confirmation, verbal or physical, that he was accepted in the 'Inseparables' circle. He didn't want to gamble, drink or womanize like the other three but he did want to be accepted. Being a recruit was lonely, especially when most of the other recruits were from noble families or at least grew up in Paris. D'Artagnan may have gained a lot of experience fast while shadowing the Inseparables but he was still a farm-boy from Gascony and that made it hard to gain friends anywhere in Paris or at least the good type of friend like Constance. But he knew that the Inseparables had many secrets, even amongst themselves, so it was hard to get them to open up and accept a virtual stranger.

But it had been two years now and D'Artagnan was still playing the part of a 'glorified boot-boy', as Porthos would've said, minus the knife-work such a person usually did. He was practically the famed trio's servant, or at least that's how Constance once described him after a night of talking around the kitchen table. It still seemed as though Athos hated him, Porthos just teased him about his inability to hold liquor or his lack of ability with the sword. And Aramis? Well, Aramis either tried to push females on him constantly, mocked his virginity or used him to get women Aramis wanted.

Despite all the cons surrounded his 'relationship' with the Inseparables, D'Artagnan continued to hold on to the naive thought that one day soon, the Inseparables would call him 'brother', he'd even settle for 'little brother' or just comrade at this point! Anything other than 'whelp' or 'pup', which translated to him as runt or weak one of the lot. So D'Artagnan maintained his outgoing personality, his ready smile and eagerness to do anything and everything Treville or the Inseparables asked. He knew that the other Musketeers and recruits looked at him with either pity or contempt, knew that he was acting like he was a dog following his masters for scraps of affection; D'Artagnan couldn't bring himself to care what others thought of him, he was determined to be acknowledged by the crème de la crème of the Musketeers.

However, the constant, adrenaline-filled missions and usual workload (which was accentuated by his constant errands) began to take their slow and steady toll on the former Gascon farmer, especially since he volunteered constantly. Rumors slowly grew among the recruits and regulars that the Inseparables were working their 'whelp' to death and didn't realize it. Even Treville began to feel concern for his best recruit when D'Artagnan began to suddenly slow down; making unusual mistakes in his work or at training, which made Athos work him even harder, staggering around more than usual after a hard day. He ate less, never seeming to have time for a proper meal before he was out the door at the Inseparables' heels on another mission or just another errand, always returning in record time. His tanned, healthy complexion slowly turned sickly, bags under his normally vibrant eyes. Constance even sent Treville a letter at one point asking what was going on that had D'Artagnan so tired constantly. Having no answer, Treville called D'Artagnan in to his office and was appalled at his first close look at the lad in months; he looked like death warmed over.

"Saints, boy! When was the last time you slept?"

D'artagnan stiffened even more as he stood at attention, his body trembling slightly. "Apologies, Captain. I was sleeping when your messenger said you wanted to see me Was it something urgent?" Treville shook his head in disbelief; were the Inseparables blind or just thick in the head? "I've been hearing rumors that you're being run ragged by Athos, Aramis and Porthos. Even the Musketeers who don't really like you are concerned. Is there anything I should know about, son?"

D'Artagnan looked confused. "No, sir. The Inseparables are just teaching me to be tough, worthy of the Musketeers." Treville blinked. "Don't be daft, boy, you've more than proven yourself already! If things didn't have to be covered up so often, the King would've given you a commission months ago! I've even recommended it but he always pushes it aside because of 'pressing state business'!" Both men shared a grimace at the thought of their king before D'artagnan shook his head. "I'm willing to wait, sir, others have waited longer than this. The King will do as he pleases."

Treville had a bad feeling; D'Artagnan's replies sounded rehearsed; normally, the Gascon spoke passionately, without thinking. Something had shut down that passion in regards to his career. Perhaps D'Artagnan had voiced his concerns to the Inseparables and they'd told him these things. Worthy of the Musketeers when he'd nearly got himself killed multiple times already in the King's Service and never looked for recognition? And with how ill he now looked, how could Aramis have not dragged him to the infirmary by now or at least to his rooms? Aramis was never one for overlooking when one of the Musketeers was looking off-color.

As Treville left his desk and approached his recruit, Porthos came barging in, laughing when he saw D'Artagnan. " _Here's_ our whelp! Oi, Athos," Treville noticed how D'Artagnan barely flinched at the Musketeer's name. "found him! He's talking to the Captain!"

"And what did that idiot boy do now!?" Athos made no attempt at being discreet in his sarcasm and D'Artagnan's eyes welled with hurt. "Well, when he's done, send him down! I need to put him through his paces! He's slacking lately!" D'Artagnan really looked like he was about to cry, although he was desperately trying not to show it. Anger boiled in Treville's breast but before he could say or do anything, D'Artagnan hollered, "Be right there, sir!"

 _'Sir'_...? Treville felt sick. D'Artagnan had ever called Athos by his name, ever since he'd helped the former comte clear his reputation after the untimely death of the young man's father. Athos must've been driving him hard for D'Artagnan to be calling him 'sir'.

"Captain?" Porthos' expectant voice interrupted Treville's dark thoughts and he couldn't help but glare hard at the swarthy man. "D'Artagnan will come when I am done with him and not before. Get out." Porthos frowned and said cajolingly, "Now Captain, whatever the whelp's done, go easy on him. It's not fair that he should suffer both you and Athos in one day."

Treville wanted to punch Porthos as D'artagnan's face fell slightly. Sweet saints, his men _were_ clueless! Before he could yell at Porthos, D'artagnan interjected hastily, "A-Actually, Captain! We can have this conversation later, yes? I'd rather not keep Athos waiting, the longer he waits, the angrier he gets. And then he really lets loose." The dread in his recruit's eyes made Treville back off. "Alright lad, go on then. But we _will_ talk later, no excuses. Understood?" He locked eyes with D'Artagnan, trying to express without words that he wanted to help the boy. D'artagnan's eyes softened and he nodded slightly with a soft, "Aye, Captain. Thank you." Then he rushed from the office, brushing past Porthos before the older man could even speak. Porthos looked back at Treville in confusion only to wince at his captain's thunderous expression and leave also. After a few moments, Treville reined in his temper and walked outside to watch the match between Athos and D'Artagnan from the high walkway.

As always, the pair drew a crowd but this time, Treville saw the concern in the eyes of most gathered and nearly all eyes were focused on D'artagnan. A few were glaring at Athos and the other members of the Inseparables, their body language protective. D'Artagnan's stance was good but it was clear that it wasn't at his best. But as usual, Athos was too annoyed to notice, calling out insults and directives as he attacked and D'artagnan defended. The younger man made a good showing but Athos only attacked harder and harder. When it was clear his protégée was tiring however, Athos didn't let up for some reason. "Don't tell me that's the best you can do?! You attacked all three of us after walking nonstop to Paris for days and made a better showing than this! I see that we've obviously been pampering you too much but I intend to correct that mistake here and now! En garde, D'artagnan!" When D'Artagnan signaled that he was done, Athos feinted an attack. "I said, en garde! Put up your sword!" But D'artagnan was obviously exhausted.

Porthos stepped forward and said tentatively, "Athos, maybe-"

"ENOUGH!" Treville bellowed, his voice ringing through the garrison like a bell. Everyone looked at him, startled. They'd rarely seen their Captain so angry and now was one of those times.

"Athos, Porthos, Aramis, my office. NOW!"

"Basset, Julian! Assist D'artagnan to the infirmary."

There was a general sense of relief among the Musketeers as their Captain intervened and many glares followed the trio as they trudged up the stairs to meet Treville in his office. Much grumbling was heard from the men before Aramis closed the door. Treville whirled to look at them and growled out, "What the hell was that just now?" The Captain was out for blood; someone was going to pay!


	2. Oblivious or Not? You Decide!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of BBC or the Musketeers, I just play with them!**

 **A/N: Yes, I've played with time and characters a bit but that's the joy of fanfiction. And don't worry, our boys will redeem themselves, they just have to grovel for a while. I've made them a bit self-centered/oblivious and D'Artagnan a bit of a doormat but there's a reason for that which will be revealed. Just to be clear, this story takes place after episode 1x8 but D'Artagnan was still considered green by the trio, that's why all the angst. Please continue to review, it is my inspiration.**

 ***** Thoughts are in _Italics_

The silence was thick and long. Treville's gaze didn't falter, moving constantly between the members of the infamous trio. Porthos looked uneasy, Athos was stoic as ever. Aramis was actually fidgeting slightly, you wouldn't be able to tell if you didn't know him.

"I never thought you would push a man like that, Athos but clearly I was mistaken. Couldn't you tell that D'Artagnan could barely hold his stance even before you started? Everyone else could tell."

Athos remained silent but there was a slight annoyance in his eyes that was starting to turn to doubt. Treville frowned.

"And while we're on the subject, there have been rumors circulating around the garrison for months that you've been working D'Artagnan to the bone. Never mind the fact that he is a commissioned Musketeer now and is voluntarily on call for any and all missions the King might give. But I've heard that you've reduced to a mere messenger boy despite his rank; sending him with messages to Aramis's ladies, challenges for Porthos' games, _constantly_ making him buy wine for you, Athos. None of the others are treated this way, why D'Artagnan?"

Now the three looked confused. Aramis answered, "We don't make him do anything, Captain. He volunteers. He's like a rabbit, constantly jumping up to do things the moment we mention it."

Treville nearly rolled his eyes. "That lad worships the three of you, or at least he did at the beginning, now it seems like it's force of habit to jump when you say jump, even with his change in rank! What I can't understand is why you've let it get to the point where he's willing to neglect his health rather than say no to you! _Especially_ you, Athos! That poor boy was willing to face my supposed wrath rather than make you wait a mere minute! What does that tell you?"

Now Athos was looking slightly uncomfortable and Treville felt a zing of vindication in his chest. "It tells me that he's gone from worshiping... to _fearing_ disappointing you three in any fashion. That not being at your beck and call makes him unworthy to be part of this regiment... when he earned it many times over in the last two years, least of all by saving my life from Labarge!" The trio all looked like they'd been punched in the stomach.

Treville took a deep breath to calm his temper, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "How did this happen? What did you do to make that boy feel like he doesn't have the right to say no to anything?"

Porthos looked like a fish, opening and closing his mouth but no sound coming out. Athos looked like a statue. Aramis was staring at his boots, clearly ashamed. Treville slammed his fist on the table again and yelled, "TALK! I want answers, not silence!" All three flinched but looked at him helplessly.

After another long moment, Treville shook his head. "Obviously you can't even tell me when it started. I wonder if you ever noticed when the boy began to falter. I'm to blame too, I didn't notice until nearly too late." He lifted his head and pinned the three with his eyes. "No more. You no longer have a servant to run your errands, take care of it on your own time. What's more, I'm removing D'Artagnan from your unit. He will be working with other Musketeers for the time being." Before Aramis could do more than open his mouth in protest, Treville shot him down. "He won't change his thinking if he stays around you. Besides, being around other Musketeers will show him that what you've been doing is wrong, that there are those here who will actually be his support. And perhaps losing the heart of your unit will wake the three of you up."

A second later, there came a loud pounding at the door and Treville yelled in annoyance, "What?!" Basset burst through the door, looking pale as a ghost. "It's D'Artagnan, sir. H-He collapsed right before we got to the infirmary... he's feverish and in a delirium. Dr. Lemay has been sent for but... he's out of his head and won't calm down. He's calling for you, sir."

All four men rushed from the office. D'Artagnan was on a cot, moaning and thrashing about. Julian was trying to cool him down with a wet cloth, murmuring to him constantly. Aramis grabbed the boy's wrist to take his pulse. "D'Artagnan, ssh. It's Aramis, we're here. Calm down."

To everyone's surprise, D'Artagnan tore away from him. "No! Captain!"

Treville shoved Aramis out of the way with a muttered, "Idiot! He wants _me_ , not you!" He placed a gentle hand on D'Artagnan's hot head, wincing at the heat coming off of his newest Musketeer. "I'm here, son. It's Treville."

"Captain...?" D'Artagnan reached out and Treville clasped his clammy hand. The poor boy opened his eyes, hazy with fever. "I'm sorry... tell Athos... s-sorry..." Treville shot Athos a glare before whispering, "Sorry for what, son?"

"Not good enough... do better... want to stay... Musketeer...family..." D'Artagnan's feverish mumbling drifted off as he fell into a fitful sleep. Treville's jaw clenched and he growled, "Get them out of here." Somehow the other Musketeers knew what he meant. They grabbed Porthos, Athos and Aramis and practically threw them out of the infirmary. Then they stood in front of the door like a protective wall, glaring at the trio.

"Oi! 'e's ours, we need to be in 'ere!" When Porthos tried to push through, Basset reared back and punched him in the jaw before drawing a knife. "Where was this caring attitude months ago, eh? The three of you might as well have driven him to this state. He bent over backwards to please you and not even a single thanks does the poor lad ever get! Bad enough his lady left him but you three certainly didn't help!"

"Should've known that all that talk about the honorable Inseparables was fake!" That was from a recent recruit from Antoine.

"D'Artagnan isn't just yours, he's ours, the cornerstone of our regiment!" That was Brujon, a cadet that D'Artagnan had recently taken a liking to. Brujon looked up to D'Artagnan, especially since he had received his commission so early in his career. The cadet wanted to be just like his idol and seeing him brought so low made him feel very protective of the older man.

Aramis stepped forward, his expression troubled. "We understand that, so let us make up for our mistakes now by being at his side as we should have been!"

"Make up for it by letting him rest in peace with Treville to watch over him! Lemay will look after him." Basset growled. "You might be more experienced than we but you've become jaded. D'Artagnan was a breath of fresh air for us and you slowly drained that out of him until he was a mere shell. You'll have to fully understand what you've done and then crawl on your knees before we let you anywhere near him. I'll personally be asking to ride with him once he's better. The rest of us will show him what family truly means in this garrison."

"And if, Lord forbid, he _shouldn't_ recover..." Julian hissed. "We'll make sure everyone in Paris knows what you've done. There are many in this city who care for our Gascon and speak well of him. I wouldn't be surprised if the Court came after you personally, Porthos, you _know_ Mistress Flea likes the boy. I would've thought that at least you would've known better than to let it get this far but you've always been more focused toward the current mission, your games, or Athos and Aramis." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, the air ringing with it.

- _Meanwhile_ -

Treville called himself ten kinds of fool as he bathed D'Artagnan's fevered brow, holding the boy's hand with his free one. ' _Boy... he's no boy, not after everything he's been through. Nearly blown up, head trauma, dozens of other things I probably don't know about! He's helped those three so much, why couldn't they see it sooner? Why couldn't I, for that matter? Being busy is only an excuse, I just assumed that they would take care of him, that their vices wouldn't overshadow their common sense and that they'd treat him with more respect now. Full-fledged Musketeers don't have that kind of time to be wasting! They're going to be grounded for at least a month!'_

Treville's inner rant was broken as D'Artagnan moaned and attempted to open his eyes. Treville began to make nonsensical noises of comfort as he continued to bathe his Musketeer's hot skin. "A-Aramis...?" He froze upon hearing the sharpshooter's name and whispered, "It's Treville, lad. Go back to sleep, the doctor is on his way."

"Captain...? S-Sorry to be so much trouble..." Treville immediately shushed him. "Nonsense. You just get well. That's all I want you to do right now, rest and get well." D'Artagnan barely smiled and whispered, "Aye, Papa." Treville froze as his patient slipped into sleep. Had that been the delirium or had D'Artagnan been serious? His heart skipped a beat regardless but Lemay's arrival forced him to put it aside for the moment.


	3. Part of the First Step

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of BBC or the Musketeers, I just play with them!**

Lemay was silently fuming as he examined his patient, directing Treville as the Captain insisted on assisting him. D'Artagnan seemed to calm at Treville's touch, which was helpful as the young man would toss and turn in his delirium, moaning as they attempted to cool the heat in his body. Lemay sincerely hoped that his herbs and poultices could turn things around, otherwise they would have no choice but to take D'Artagnan for a dip in the Seine. And that river was never truly clean, so he wanted to avoid that.

"How long has he been like this, Captain? It takes a while for a fever to turn this bad without injuries. He's bruised but nothing fatal that I can see. And he was always slender but I can see his ribs now, his muscles have clearly been affected as well." Treville sighed heavily and looked very guilty. "I didn't know this until recently but the lad's been going without sleep or proper nourishment for perhaps months, plus the stress of training and missions. His unit hasn't been making sure that he's been well."

"The Inseparables?" Lemay was shocked. "Why in Heaven's name-They seemed so close when I would see them together! Surely not!" Treville shook his head. " I speak truth, Doctor. For some unknown reason, they have abused his trust and turned him into little more than a hired hand or servant for their own use, or something close to it. And I have no idea why or when it started except that it might have been going on long before D'Artagnan was commissioned by the King. When I questioned those three imbeciles, they could not even tell me when it began, they tried to brush it off as the lad's own doing!"

The young doctor frowned. "Well... obviously it's been going on _too_ long, especially if the lad is already so used to it that he would neglect his own well-being. What is being done to try and correct it?" Treville shook his head. "The lad got sick just after I found out but I fully intend to separate him for those three and put him with others who will actually look after him. All the others seem to admire and respect him, so there's no fear of this continuing in their company. They will also provide a buffer for him because if I know Athos, Aramis and Porthos, they will try to get him back soon or interfere in some way. They seem very possessive of our young Gascon and don't even seem to realize it." Lemay was relieved to hear that Treville had a plan. "Then I will layout a plan for his physical health. And I know that this will chafe D'Artagnan and you but I would strongly recommend that he not go back on active duty right away. His physical health is such that he will need to regain it before subjecting himself to the usual regime of a Musketeer."

Treville grimaced. "That will make keeping him away from those three more difficult, I'll have to think on that." Lemay stroked his mustache. "Hmmm... perhaps, I could... do you have any other medics in the regiment besides Aramis?" Treville got the idea almost instantly and grinned. "You wish to take the lad as your apprentice, of sorts?"

Lemay nodded, getting a little excited. "I have no apprentice now, so it would be perfect. D'Artagnan would be under my eye as well as the other Musketeers and he would have a legitimate excuse to be away from the garrison while not on missions. Besides, I am often called to the palace, D'Artagnan could accompany me at times and possibly ingratiate himself to the court as well as the public. Rumors have already spread about him in the court and the more genuine nobles I treat have expressed desire to meet him, the Musketeer who earned his commission by placing himself in danger for you against a brutal thug of the Cardinal's, the honorable Captain."

Treville saw a problem with this, though. "I do not wish to have D'Artagnan in the Cardinal's line of sight. He has already earned his attention more than once and I fear he would try and influence him." Lemay waved his concern away. "Never fear, Captain. My patrons and I would keep him safe in court, I trust them." Treville ran a hand through his hair before saying, "Just make sure you don't take him often. He's a Musketeer before all else. Now what are we looking at here, all told?" Lemay frowned. "He needs to gain at least a stone in weight but I would be happiest if he could gain two at most. He'll need to eat small meals multiple times a day with plenty of liquids, as nutritious as can be." The worried Captain smiled a little. "Serge will see to it. He's always been saying that D'Artagnan needed to eat more but we all thought it was a running joke." Lemay rolled his eyes. "Should've listened then. Cooks can see better than others sometimes."

"What else?" Treville said, hating that negligence kept getting brought up, sticking salt in the wound again and again. Lemay hummed in his throat as he looked his patient over and continued to cool his restless body with water. "At this moment, this fever needs to break and soon. If it lingers too long at this temperature, I can't say what will happen to his mind. Liquids will help too, have Segre make some gentle broth, see if you can get it in him. Once the fever breaks, we'll work on the feeding up and drinking. With any luck, we might be able to talk to him, find out just what all he's been through so we fully know what we're dealing with. His mind needs healing too, after all." Treville nodded, his face never losing its grim mien.

Lemay got ready to leave and just before he opened the door, he said, "Captain? I would greatly appreciate it if you did me a favor? Make the Inseparables suffer for a good portion of time. D'Artagnan will take a while to come back from this." Treville chuckled. "That is my plan, Doctor. I think it is the entire regiment's plan." Lemay nodded. "Good."

After the doctor left, Basset and Julian came in, clearly anxious to find out about their youngest Musketeer. "What did Lemay say, Captain?" Treville frowned. "Fever has to break first. One of you stay with him, I need to talk to Serge for a time. Maintain physical contact, it calms him. Bathe him, talk to him. Encourage him to come back. We can do nothing of importance until the fever leaves him." Basset clenched his jaw. "I'm going to thrash those three. They wanted to come in as soon as Lemay left but we forced them back. I've already punched Porthos but he's always been an idiot. Athos and Aramis, they should've known better."

Julian placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "They took him for granted, yes. But take it out on them later, Basset. D'Artagnan's health and mental well-being is more important than avenging him or whatever those three may want right now." Basset reluctantly nodded. "Right but once he's in the clear, Captain..." Treville looked grim. "Just don't go too over the top. I'd recommend sparring with them until they're ready to collapse, no matter how many Musketeers it takes. But make sure those chosen have enough stamina, Athos alone is formidable." Basset smirked. "Not if he's hung-over, none of them are at their best at that point. And if you make it an order..." Treville smiled now. "Right when they're not expecting it, eh? I never knew you to be so deviously clever, Basset. See what else you can come up with." The younger man smirked again. "It'll be my pleasure, Captain. Julian, you stay here with D'Artagnan." The other Musketeer nodded at once. "I'll do my best, my friend." With D'Artagnan in good hands, the two men left the infirmary to take care of their mutual tasks. ' _All for one, one for all. It's time to give the Inseparables a refresher course on what our motto truly means...'_


	4. Treville's Rage

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of BBC or the Musketeers, I just play with them!**

A/N: So sorry, that it's taken me so long to update! RL + writer's block interfered big time. Here's the next part!

While Lemay tended to D'Artagnan, the Musketeers' captain stalked out of the infirmary to deal with an infamous trio as well as inform the rest of his Musketeers of what was to come. His expression might have been a blank mask but his eyes, if anyone dared look close enough, readily betrayed his inner feelings. The captain was angry and everyone around him instinctively decided to do whatever they could to keep him from losing his temper, futile as that may be.

"Assemble everyone in the courtyard. I don't care if anyone's sleeping, drunk or just returned from a mission. Everyone who is here in the garrison is to be gathered in the courtyard in five minutes. Anyone who is late will be suspended of duty and pay until further notice. Those who are away from the garrison at this time will be informed of what I'm going to say once they return." His command to the nearest Musketeers was instantly obeyed. Men were dragged from beds and away from tables. This included Porthos, Athos and Aramis. The men who came for them were exceedingly rough in their handling, tearing wine cups from their hands and practically dragging them out of Aramis' quarters where they had been drinking their sorrows away. Thankfully, the trio wasn't quite drunk yet or fists would've been flying.

Just before the five minutes were up, all available Muskeeters were assembled, more or less, in front of Treville, who was standing above them on the second floor walkway of the barracks. He waited five more minutes but there were no stragglers. Then he waited five more minutes just for the heck of it before speaking. "I've called you here for an update on our youngest but also for a few notices. First off, Dr. Lemay has said that D'artagnan should recover... _if_ his fever breaks soon." The momentary relief his men felt at his first words was quickly squelched by further concern. Treville continued, "As he was not at full strength before the fever took him, it is not certain when or even if the fever will break, as D'Artagnan is currently remaining in delirium. But Lemay will do his best."

"This unfortunate circumstance has taught me a lesson and opened my eyes to a few things that I do not like. This leads me to the notices I spoke of earlier. I will say this now and it better be heeded: The younger generation of Musketeers are not to be the errand boys of the older generation! They are your comrades, not your slaves to be at your beck and call! They learn, train and do grunt work in order for all at this garrison to grow strong, not for only a few to lord over the rest! D'artagnan was brought to this by his own comrades and I am ashamed to say that I didn't see it happening, nor that anyone felt that I should be informed. Then again, I trusted the older generation to look out for the younger, to be fathers and brothers to those who have none. But a select few have decided that because of their reputation within and without this garrison... because they feel they have experienced more than others, that they are entitled to have the younger generation serve under them until _they_ feel the younger ones are ready, not when the king appoints them or I say so. Well, I want to set that view straight right now because it has caused harm to our own. Such bias is not how this garrison should work, nor how it will in the future! If I see any more of this kind of outrageous behavior, you will be stripped of your rank whatever it is and thrown out of here with the clothes on your back! Non-rank and newly appointed Musketeers are not servants, they are family and shall be treated as such, no matter their experience or background. Am I understood?"

Although he was pleased that the majority of the Musketeers were quietly glaring at the Inseparables, he bellowed again, "AM I UNDERSTOOD?" All snapped to attention and yelled, "Yes, Captain!" Treville nodded. "Good. Porthos, Athos, Aramis, to me. The rest of you... dismissed!" He could hear many of the men murmuring insults as the trio through the crowd and up the stairs. Once the three men stood in front of him, he stared at them for a good, long moment before jerking his head toward the door beside him. "Inside. Now."

Once Treville was seated behind his desk, he looked up at the trio he'd previously thought of as his favorites, his honorable yet flawed Inseparables. But they had shown themselves to be more than flawed, they had become jaded. Now his favoritism had come back to bite and he would have to fix things here and now.

"D'Artagnan will need to recuperate for some time, per Lemay's instructions. He will not be pressured in any way, shape or form before he is truly ready. And when he is ready to return to active duty as a Musketeer... he will not be working with you three for quite some time."

Porthos stiffened. "The lad's been with us for years, we can't replace him so easily!" Treville almost smirked. "And he won't be replaced. There's no way under heaven I'm giving you three a second chance to ruin another promising recruit like you almost ruined D'Artagnan. You manipulated him into thinking that if he didn't work himself to the bone for you, you wouldn't accept him. I understand that his way of entering the Musketeers was unorthodox, his journey with us unusual. But you almost ruined his health, not to mention his future with your own lack of self-discipline and forethought. Because the rest of you have been through trials and sprung back with no problem, you saw no problem in pushing that _boy_ to the breaking point. Even when it was obvious that he wasn't well, you were 'training' him past his limits. And now, because of you three, D'Artagnan fears being around you, he's in a delirium and you saw how he pulled away from Aramis. Yet you ignored the signs. And because I mistakenly trusted you with the lad, I ignored them too. Well, my trust was obviously misplaced and now I have to fix the damage you've caused and prevent it from happening ever again."

Treville took a deep breath. "You will be separated into different rotations for an unknown amount of time, none of you will be together. You will have to learn how to be without each other for a time and the men will not allow you to get away with anything, regardless of your seniority, reputation or anything else. And you be constantly sent out; that means no time for womanizing, drinking or gambling; you'll be worked to the bone just like you worked D'Artagnan to the bone, just like a servant does in the king's household. Hopefully, this will give you a taste of your own medicine and show you how to respect others. And you will have no contact with the boy so he won't hear your complaints and whatever vicious poison or revenge you come up with in your heads. And don't come begging for me to change things; D'Artagnan will choose if he wants to see you again, when I know it's not out of misplaced guilt. Until then, you will only have contact with him when _absolutely_ necessary or by the King's order. And when that happens, _if_ it happens, you will not badger him to rejoin your group or about anything else and I will make sure that you are never alone with him, any of you. Am I understood?"

Aramis had gone pale, Athos looked grim and Porthos was actually gaping at the captain. A split-second later, Treville bellowed, "DO YOU FOOLS UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM TELLING YOU!? YOU ARE TO STAY AWAY FROM THAT YOUNG MAN OR I WILL HAVE YOU STRIPPED OF YOUR RANK AND CAST OUT OF PARIS, EVEN IF I HAVE TO GO TO THE KING! UNDERSTOOD!?"

The trio actually jumped a foot in the air, even Athos, all going pale and almost falling down. In all their years under his command, they'd never been afraid of their captain but now they were! At a loss for word, they nodded fervently. Treville glared at them with disgust. ' _Somehow I doubt that_.' But all he said was, "You have the night to think about what you've done... or rather what you haven't done. Now get out of my sight." The trio quickly left his office and Treville fell into his seat, feeling every one of his years. ' _How will I ever fix this?_ '

Shaken, the Inseparables walked down the stair to the courtyard. They looked up to see the entire garrison staring at them. Nearly all were outright glaring or looked ready to have at them. The three had faced their captain, now they would face the wrath of their comrades.


	5. Shamed

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of BBC or the Musketeers, I just play with them!**

Aramis felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face as he and the others faced their angry fellow Musketeers. In a vain attempt to diffuse the situation, he asked quietly, "Any news of D'Artagnan?"

Bassett, who was a strong, grey-eyed, married man with two children, looked ready to kill at his question. "You have some nerve asking after him right now, Aramis." Porthos, having the quickest temper of the three, almost snapped, "It was just a question, Bassett." The other Musketeer snorted and looked up at the sky for a moment. "Ah yes, just a question. Well, where was this medic's questions when our youngest Musketeer first started showing signs of exhaustion, when he started growing thin? Or was your only concern about D'Artagnan's pretty face securing you more bedwarmers, Aramis? As long as he wasn't bruised or cut up where it could show, you could use him to secure your next night's entertainment, no worries about whether he was getting enough sleep after a few hard missions in a row?"

Aramis dropped his head slightly and Porthos stepped forward. "We know we made a mistake-"

"Mistake?" Brujon interrupted coldly, stepping forward with narrowed eyes. "A mistake is when you do something by accident... _without meaning to do it_ and then try your hardest not to do that same thing again. No, D'Artagnan's current condition was caused by more than a _mistake_ and you know this. You three constantly profess that you consider D'Artagnan to be your younger brother. More than that, Athos professes that D'Artagnan is his protégé; well, brothers and mentors keep an eye on those they supposedly care about. They notice when something is wrong with that person. You three look out for each other just fine but you somehow couldn't see that D'Artagnan was in trouble. And the worst part is: each of you contributed to his current condition because of your own vices." Normally, Brujon wouldn't be so bold and would be taking a risk saying what he had, but he knew that the other Musketeers felt the same.

"He should've said something." Athos muttered but Julian heard him. "Even if he had, which he wouldn't have, you wouldn't have listened, Athos. You rarely listen to _anyone_ , save Treville and these two. And when you don't like what you hear, you either dismiss it or cut the person responsible for saying it down to size, _hard_." The older man's head shot up to look at his fellow Musketeer in shock. "That's probably the reason D'Artagnan's kept quiet for so long, he didn't want to deal with _you,_ your contempt for _weakness_. Since Aramis and Porthos follow your stoic lead as you are the leader of your little group, D'Artagnan would've assumed that they probably would react however you would, which probably would've been to tell him to suck it up and be a man if he wanted to be a real Musketeer, perhaps? Isn't that what you're always preaching to him, shouting at him during your spars? Never a 'well done' from you, that's left to Porthos and Aramis, even though he's _your_ _ **protégé**_ _._ Head over heart must mean something like, keep your troubles and emotions to yourself, you'll get no sympathy from others."

Athos nearly flinched. It was true, he was always telling D'Artagnan 'head over heart' and to not slow them down, to learn faster so he wouldn't be a burden. Worse, he did it in private and in public, save for the King and Cardinal's presence. And he rarely tempered his criticism with praise or told his protégé when he had improved; when D'Artagnan had been honored by the king and received his commission, it was the first time Athos had come close to smiling around the young man in months. But then Athos rallied and said, "He's used to that from me, I've never made any secret about how I am."

Many of the Musketeers scoffed loudly or openly rolled their eyes. "Yes, we all know you're exceptionally jaded. Except you would think that after two years and D'Artagnan helping to save you from a noose, you would've warmed up to him enough that you could let your guard down. But no," Julian sneered. "No, you're content to remain the stoic mentor and only claim brotherhood with the boy when it's absolutely necessary. In fact," He turned toward Porthos and Aramis. "None of you claim such unless it needs to be said or could gain you something. And D'Artagnan is not like you nor has he been with you as long as you three have been together. So, he would _need_ such assurance by word and deed but you denied him that, so of course he wouldn't feel comfortable coming to you with his problems. Does he tell you when he's hurt except when Aramis might have time to check all of you over? No, that's obvious because of where he is right now." Julian threw his hands up in the air. "Why am I even bothering with this? Bassett, you try. I'm going to check on D'Artagnan, see if Lemay needs help."

For one quick moment, Aramis forgot Treville's command and began to follow Julian toward the infirmary. But before he could take more than a single step after Julian, Brujon and some others blocked his way. "Don't think we didn't hear what Treville said to the three of you, you're aren't going anywhere near D'Artagnan." Aramis immediately backed up, hands in the air. "Apologies. Force of habit." Brujon scoffed and said, "Yeah, right."

"I do not believe that Julian is completely right in his analysis, he is thinking with his emotions right now." Bassett began once Aramis was back where he should be. "However, he is right about a few things. D'Artagnan grew up differently than all three of you put together. His father was murdered right in front of him and he could do nothing; he had to watch his father's murderer, his people's oppressor, live and serve under the Cardinal, his new family's hated enemy. Months later, he gets his chance and his dream. Yet, you do not treat him as he deserves; I'd say that you take him for granted. Worse, I believe that you either have such a high opinion of yourselves that you see nothing wrong with what you have done to that boy... or that the boy was so desperate for a family that he was willing to do anything for the three of you once you acted like you accepted him."

Now Aramis's hackles rose. "It was no act! We do accept him! He is our younger brother!"

Bassett blinked. "Oh. Well then, if you're family... **why is he in the infirmary now?!** " The trio flinched at the older man's yell. "Why? Why did you take advantage of him? Why couldn't you see past yourselves enough to see that something was going on with D'Artagnan? Don't you talk to each other?"

"We didn' take advantage of 'im!" Porthos cried out indignantly. "I told Treville, he volunteered all those times whenever we even mentioned doin' anythin'." None of the men looked convinced. If anything, they looked even more annoyed and skeptical. Bassett frowned deeply. "And as I am sure Treville asked you before, why didn't you stop and think when that became more than an occasional thing? Why didn't you pay attention? I'll tell you. D'Artagnan being available to basically clean up after you was a relief and you relished not having to do those tasks yourself. So after a time, it automatically became his 'job' when he already had a full-time job as a recruit and then a commissioned Musketeer. After all, the boy messed up your team, forcing it to accommodate into being a quartet. Was this, perhaps, your unintentional revenge on an outsider for daring to get close to you after all others failed to do so? Or since he is the new, unwanted addition... his needs and wants, his demons don't matter more than your own?" In his heart, Bassett knew this wasn't the case at all but he was trying to open their eyes by being necessarily crass.

That accusation, unfounded or not, was the straw that broke the camel's back for the embarrassed, shamed trio. Porthos lashed out first, punching the nearest person he could. When someone punched back, Aramis and then Athos got involved. The noise became such that Lemay and Julian could hear it in the infirmary. Even in his delirium, D'Artagnan could somehow tell something was wrong. He opened his eyes and immediately began to struggle to get up. "Wha's... g'ing 'n...?" he slurred. Lemay struggled to keep him calm as the young man became increasingly agitated. When D'Artagnan began to mumble about getting out of bed, Lemay barked at Julian, "Go get those fools outside to calm down or he'll hurt himself! His fever's already spiking!"

Spurred by fear and annoyance, Julian grabbed his pistols and rushed outside. Feeling vindictive, he aimed toward Porthos' room window and shot it out. The shot and sound of falling glass made everyone in the courtyard freeze. Porthos stared over at his window in shock before looking up at Julian, who glared at him so hard he had to fight not to flinch. "That's enough. Next one goes to someone else's window. You're bothering D'Artagnan with this noise! If you can't keep your tempers, leave!"

Almost as once, the other Musketeers pushed and shoved the Inseparables toward the gate, getting in an additional punch or two to subdue the three so they would go more easily. Bassett helped toss Athos out and stood over the trio like an avenging angel. "Be back at dawn for your first orders in regards to your new placement, or rather your first steps toward atonement. If any of you _dare_ to show up here tomorrow drunk, hung over or late, today will seem like a series of love taps to what we will do to you and I promise you that you do not want to test Treville further. Now get out of our sight, you have disgraced this regiment enough for a day!" The men immediately turned their backs on the Inseparables, muttering loudly about 'trash' and 'D'Artagnan is worth ten of those self-righteous fools', among other things.

The trio really didn't know what to do. But finally, Athos stumbled to his feet and grumbled, "My apartment is closest. Let's go." Aramis clung to Porthos' steadying arm, his mind wondering just how badly they had all screwed up with their fourth member if even the majority of the regiment was up in arms and ready to thrash them. "We're goin' to 'ave some work to do to repair our standin' in the garrison." The big man murmured. Aramis huffed and replied, "That's putting it mildly. I just pray that this doesn't reach the ears of the Red Guards. We'd never hear the end of it and the Cardinal would undoubtedly use it against the regiment."

Athos rolled his eyes and hissed, "Hang the Cardinal and the Guard, D'Artagnan is held in high enough regard with the king right now that whatever scorn they would seek to bestow would land fully on us three, especially if our captain and regiment's reactions become known as well. Now, come. We have much to discuss and meditate on away from prying ears. We need to figure out how to make this up to D'Artagnan once he recovers." The three limped off in the direction of their quarters for the night, hearts hurting and minds slowly comprehending what they had done to the one person in their group that they should've treated so much better.

Back in the garrison, the men's mutterings and dark faces were interrupted by the sight of Doctor Lemay exiting the infirmary. "Someone get Treville." Bassett whispered. Finally, they would have news of the Gascon, good or ill.

 **A/N: Hello! Well, our boys are in a predicament! If the dressing down seems to harsh, it was needed in order to let the trio know how badly they screwed up. I'm almost done raking them over the coals though. D'Artagnan will recover slowly but the Inseparables are going to have a hard time staying away from him at first! This will lead to a few more arguments, confrontations and punishments before things get better, Papa Treville and the protective regiment will show up again. But they will get better!**


	6. Beginning of Recovery

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of BBC or the Musketeers, I just play with them!**

 **Sorry for being late, RL interfered and wore me out but I'm back!**

The news that D'Artagnan was somewhat aware now was a partial relief to the men and their Captain. Although his fever remained, Lemay was encouraged by the fact that it was slowly diminishing and held out hope that the Gascon would continue to improve if he continued to rest. But he said it was also crucial that D'Artagnan be further encouraged to recover by those around him; he cautioned that due to the Gascon's previous behavior, he would probably feel a failure for becoming sick after trying so hard to 'fit in' and be accepted by the Inseparables, by the Musketeers overall. The physical and emotional negligence done by the Inseparables wouldn't vanish overnight either; D'Artagnan would need time and support if he was to recover fully and realize the initial potential that others had seen at the beginning of his time in Paris. There was a silent agreement amongst all gathered that the Gascon would have that time and support ten-fold; he would not be pushed but encouraged, lifted up by his brothers. They would make up for the mistakes of those who were supposed to be the best of them but had instead failed one of their own.

Despite his sharp disappointment in his best three Musketeers and his own guilt, Treville had never felt more proud of his regiment. They would show D'Artagnan what it meant to be a true family, to have true bonds and people who truly cared about the Gascon. And perhaps in the doing, the Inseparables could redeem themselves and change for the better as well. With these thoughts in his head, Treville entered the infirmary to visit his sick soldier.

He quietly made his way to D'Artagnan's cot and laid his hand on the younger man's forehead. It was still overly warm but not blazing as it had been when D'Artagnan had been delirious and the young Gascon seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Almost unconsciously, Treville stroked his youngest Musketeer's damp hair for a moment before turning to Lemay, who stood nearby. "Has he been bathed at all?" Lemay shook his head. "We were more concerned about his fever before. I have sent for clean clothes and the necessary items, it will be taken care of momentarily."

" _I_ will do it." Treville's reply shocked the young doctor momentarily. "C-Captain-!" Treville frowned at Lemay. "It is the least I can do for him right now. I do not mind." After a moment of sputtering, Lemay shrugged helplessly and left the basin of cool water and clean rags beside the bed before going to see about the clean clothes.

Treville's hands were unusually gentle as he went about the process of making D'Artagnan more comfortable. Within half an hour, the boy was clean, dressed and looked much better if still pale under what remained of his tan. Treville decided to try and rouse the boy to see if he would eat some broth or at least drink something. He gently shook one shoulder while gently patting the boy's cheek. "D'Artagnan? Hey, can you wake up for me, son?" The endearment slipped out without Treville knowing and he didn't know that it was that special word and tone of voice that reached into D'Artagnan's conscious and encouraged him to slowly wake. "Urgh, mmm... P-Papa...?" His dark eyes opened and slowly focused, causing Treville to smile. "There you are, lad. Welcome back. You had us all worried for a bit there."

"C-Captain..." D'Artagnan tried to sit up and Treville helped him immediately but the effort obviously cost the young man; he ended up leaning back against the pillows, panting with the effort and his forehead newly clammy as he fought dizziness. Treville was ready with water to help combat the dizziness of dehydration and helped the boy drink about half a dozen small sips of the precious liquid. When D'Artagnan clearly wanted more, Treville shook his head and said, "Slowly, lad. We don't want you to upset your stomach, it's still tender from the fever."

"Urgh... fever..." D'Artagnan struggled with his memory for a moment. "I wuz... sparrin'. Tired, didn't want to spar... Who did I fight...?" Before Treville could answer, the Gascon's eyes widened. "Athos!" His eyes swept the room quickly, searching for his mentor in near-fear. Treville grabbed his shoulders gently and shushed him. "It's alright, D'Artagnan. They're not here. Rest easy, they're not going to bother you."

D'Artagnan both wanted and didn't want answers. His brain was muddled from the fever and his exhaustion. "Captain, w-what is going on?"

Treville smiled slightly. "You need to have some food, so that your body can fight this fever. I've asked Serge for some light broth and fresh bread. It should be here any moment and then we'll see if you can tolerate it." D'Artagnan's feverish flush intensified slightly with his embarrassment. "Sorry to be so much trouble, Captain." Treville ignored that and he made small talk with D'Artagnan until Serge arrived with the broth. The old man patted D'Artagnan's leg with a smile and said, "Eat slowly, lad. You've been without proper food for too long and I don't want you to waste this opportunity, alright? Once you're better, I'll make you a hearty stew, how's that sound?

As if on cue, D'Artagnan's stomach rumbled, making him blush again and the two older men laughed. Since D'Artagnan was still weak, Treville helped him eat the broth slowly. Much to the Captain's pleasure, the young man managed to eat at least a fourth of the bowl and half of a small bread loaf before stopping.

D'Artagnan leaned back against his pillow and asked tiredly, "Captain, when can I go back on duty?" Treville fixed him with a stern look. "First, my young Gascon, your fever has to break and you have to be fed up a bit before going anywhere. For now, you are going to rest for quite a while and then light duties only when I say so. After you build up your strength again, Lemay has asked that you be his assistant while you recuperate, learn from him. How do you like the idea of expanding your knowledge, D'Artagnan?" The young man was obviously not comprehending the full message but he did manage a slight smile. "A-Aramis was always so good with healing, I wanted to ask him to teach me but there was never any right time to do so. I picked up some things just by watching him but all I can really know are the barest of the basics."

Treville took that to mean that D'Artagnan hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the subject with the medic and nearly rolled his eyes. ' _Sounds typical for his time with them. Yet another thing I have to yell at them about!_ ' But he smiled at D'Artagnan and said, "I'm always in need of medics in the garrison. It will be good for you, a change of pace. A reason to be at the palace sometimes that doesn't cause you to stand hours at the King's side."

Treville's attempt at humor didn't lift the atmosphere as he'd hoped. D'Artagnan's eyes clouded momentarily and he whispered, "I won't have to be around the Queen, will I?" At first, Treville was confused and then he remembered with a pang that D'Artagnan had suffered some kind of heartache regarding the Queen's confidante; True, it wasn't right to be in a relationship with a married woman but he hated that his favorite Musketeer had experienced heartache.

"Unless she were to need Lemay specifically, I don't think so. I will see if excuses may be made for you at those times unless absolutely necessary." He could see how tired D'Artagnan was and dabbed the sweat from his brow, the wet coolness further soothing the young man. "Sleep, D'Artagnan. Let yourself heal. Let us take care of you."

Even as sleep tried to claim him, D'Artagnan mumbled frantically, "C-Captain, I'm sorry about this... Please tell the others I'll be better in no time and that I'm sorry for being a burden." Treville's heart ached as the boy drifted into repose and he gently squeezed D'Artagnan's hand to reassure him. "I will tell them..." Once he was sure the Gascon was asleep, Treville's eyes narrowed dangerously and he continued in a harsh whisper, "I will tell those three... that they have a long road before them if they wish to atone, never mind regain the respect of their fellow Musketeers. And we will make them work for it every step of the way. You have suffered enough in your short life, my boy. It is time that someone looked after you again, especially since your father, rest his soul, cannot do so." Almost as if D'Artagnan could hear him, a small smile lifted the Gascon's lips slightly and that terrible vice feeling brought on by stress and dread finally eased around Treville's heart. Yes, his youngest would be alright, eventually.


	7. The King Knows!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Musketeers or BBC at all. I'm just playing around with them!**

 **Author's note: Hi all! I am so sorry for the long wait! RL and the holidays hit me hard with work & personal stuff, so the urge to write was minimal for a while. Then my computer decided to have problems, so I'm borrowing my Dad's old one for now. So here's another chapter to hopefully make up for it and I've made it a very long one for the same reason! Read and Review please, it's my chocolate!**

D'artagnan was very disorientated after his fever broke but he clearly remembered how mad Athos had been. So the sick young man was understandably tense and couldn't relax completely, no matter how tired he felt. He tried to because getting clean via sponge bath felt good after who-knew-how-long. But that it was the Captain doing it, well that made him additionally tense and embarrassed, though the man was nothing but gentle about it. Still, D'Artagnan couldn't know the changes his sickness had caused or what his former team had coming to them, so he was left to wonder and worry at the moment of Athos barging in and berating him for some such thing or other.

After Treville seemed done and helped him dress in clean clothes while one of the musketeers put clean sheets on the bed, D'Artagnan struggled to find words to the questions already plaguing his muddled mind. After a moment and a drink of water at Treville's insistence, the younger man thought he had a good question to start with. "Captain, are the others upset with me? Is that why they're not here?"

Treville did his best to withhold a wince. What a question for the boy to start with! After a moment, he answered, "They have been given extra chores as we are currently short-handed and Serge hauled them into the kitchen this afternoon to assist him."

This earned him a chuckle from the sick young man, who whispered, "Good luck with that. Poor Serge, none of them can cook save Aramis and that's only because of his lady friends. Even then his attempts aren't the best."

Glad as he was to hear his boy laughing, Treville released the next bit of information carefully. "Yes. I'm afraid that the current rotation will keep them busy for too long to be taking many missions. They will only be sent out at the greatest of need." Treville was being very careful to make this seem very natural and not because of D'Artagnan at all. For the moment, he didn't want more stress on the boy though there was no telling what would happen should he run into the Inseparables once he was well enough to work. He wanted the boy to have some peace for the moment.

"So, am I to join that rotation once Lemay deems me well enough, Captain?" D'Artagnan asked, though he didn't seem eager. Treville smiled a true smile this time and said, "Actually, my boy, when the new rotations were made, I realized something. We don't have enough medics in the garrison to make me comfortable. I know that you have steady hands and a firm stomach, would you be willing to learn under Lemay for a time? You're already a crack shot and a fine swordsman, why not add healing to your repertoire?"

D'Artagnan flushed slightly. He'd always been in awe of Aramis, though he was no doctor himself. Seeing Lemay work on the worst patients at times and pull near miracles out of his hat had been doubly awe-inspiring. Him, a doctor? But Treville was right, he had good hands and wasn't afraid of gore; he'd seen enough already to be somewhat immune. "I-If you think it would help the garrison, I would be willing, Captain." Treville smiled warmly again and clapped his shoulder gently. "Good lad, Lemay will no doubt be pleased to hear that. It'll be less work for him and we won't have to hear him complaining as much." The two men shared a laugh; Lemay was always complaining of all the training accidents and duels with the Red Guard that had him almost constantly on call to the garrison.

There was a knock at the door and Bastien entered, looking like a thundercloud. "Excuse me, Captain but-" He didn't have to say anything else, Treville immediately realized that the Inseparables were in the garrison, nothing else seemed to get his men in a bad mood as fast nowadays. "I'll be right there." He turned back to D'Artagnan and said, "I'll have Lemay discuss things further with you. Something just came up that I need to tend to, obviously. But I'll be back soon."

He stroked D'Artagnan's head for a moment. "You be good and rest until Lemay comes. That's an order from your captain." With a slight smile of amusement, the younger man nodded, thinking that the mysterious issue had to be something with the King for Treville to instantly change from warm to irritated so fast. If only he knew... he would've been way more tense than he currently was.

\- Five minutes later -

Treville's annoyance at leaving D'Artagnan was multiplied when he laid eyes on the Inseparables standing at attention. They were trying to hide their apprehension, Athos doing better than the other two out of practice. He couldn't help but frown deeply; just because D'Artagnan was clearly recovering now didn't mean that he would go easy on them suddenly, no matter what they might be thinking.

"Captain?" Aramis was the one brave enough, or stupid enough, to speak first. Treville shot him a venomous glare that made him pale slightly. "I should just let you wonder and fret after what you've done..." All three shifted in some way, obviously uncomfortable. "But the boy is awake for the moment and talking." Aramis's face lit up and he started to smile before Treville shut him right down.

"Wipe that smile off of your face, Aramis. You have no right to feel happy or relieved. The three of you made this happen, don't forget. Just because the boy is awake and slightly better now doesn't mean that you are off your punishment. I meant what I said, you will not see him until he wants to see you and not out of guilt. Now, I thought you had a mountain of chores to do and Serge looks right upset with you." He pointed toward the kitchens and the trio saw Serge standing with his fists propped on his hips, looking mad indeed. The older man pointed at them and then at the door behind him. "March before I take this spoon to your backsides. NOW! You have dishes to wash and tables to clean. And that's before you clean the tack and muck the stables!" The trio 'marched', more like ran and Treville shook his head. Yes, this lesson in humility would take a while indeed.

\- Later that afternoon -

Queen Anne was with the King when Treville paid a visit to their chambers. Louis's cheerful greeting fell short when he saw the frown on his Captain's face. "What has happened, Treville? More plots and such?"

"I find myself wishing it were just that, Majesties." Treville came to stand before them and took a deep breath, knowing that the reaction to his next words would create havoc. "I am sorry to report that D'Artagnan has taken ill and will be unable to attend your Majesty in the near future."

Louis's jaw dropped at the mention of his personal Champion being ill and Anne was also visibly concerned. "What the deuce happened, Treville?! Was he wounded?" Louis stood up so hard and fast that his chair crashed to the floor but he obviously didn't care.

"No but he has exhausted himself with missions back-to-back and little food or rest in-between. We are still working on finding out why he pushed himself to that extent." That was a half-truth for the moment, Treville was trying to ease into the subject.

"But he will recover, yes?" Louis almost shouted in his distress. Treville nodded and said, "Lemay thinks so but it will be a slow recovery. D'Artagnan has neglected his health to the point where he is underweight and his muscles very weak. He will need bedrest for a while and then quiet activities for the next part. But he shall recover."

"Then he shall recover here, in the palace." Louis said firmly. For the first time, Treville smiled and interjected, "I anticipated Your Majesty's wish and offered him a job with Lemay learning healing. My garrison can never have too many healers after all. With your permission, he will recover here, away from the commotion of the garrison for the next month and be Lemay's apprentice for a time after that."

"Yes, yes, see to it that he is brought here as soon as he can be moved!" Louis turned to Anne. "My dear, please see to it that a room is prepared for him in the family wing. I want him close by." Anne understood and nodded, "I will get take care of it right away, Louis. I will also make sure that our physician is on hand when D'Artagnan is brought here." The Queen hurried away, calling for a page as she left the room.

"Now, Treville." Louis fixed a stern look on his Captain. "Tell me the truth. Has our D'Artagnan's neglect truly been of his own doing? I may be a fool at times but in this I sense that there is more to the story than you are telling me."

Treville mentally cursed. Of all the times for Louis to be discerning! But the older man couldn't blame him, D'Artagnan was the King's Champion and saved his life from slavers once. The King was always asking after him, possibly because they were close in age as well. Treville took a deep breath and without naming anyone, he revealed how D'Artagnan had become so ill.

Of course, once he knew all, the King was enraged. He turned and swept everything off of a nearby table, smashing several glass cups and a decanter full of expensive wine to the floor. "How could this happen?! I thought your exalted code of brotherhood was 'All for one, one for all'?! And yet _my Champion_... is treated thus?!"

Treville winced openly, he couldn't help it, the King's words scored his already wounded heart like salt water over an open wound. He had been thinking similar things ever since learning of D'Artagnan's sickness. "I failed in my duty as Captain, Sire. But please be assured, those responsible have been taken to task and their punishment shall be long, filthy and hard. My other Musketeers are determined to make up for this in any way they can as D'Artagnan is highly respected. Everyone just assumed that he would looked after by those who openly called him their brother almost from the moment they met."

In his own frustration, Treville failed to notice the calculating glint in Louis's eye and the King's next words made his heart sink. "There are only three Musketeers who have done so in my hearing and they are the Inseparables. Have they truly become so jaded, Treville?"

Luckily, Louis's anger seemed spent for the moment and he just looked lost and sad. "I have seen the bond between them, they love him. Treville, what happened?" Treville had no real answer to give. "I cannot begin to understand what was going through their minds...but I am hoping that what has happened and their coming punishments will show them that they were wrong and that they have a lot to make up for."

"We'll do better than that." Louis said with a deep frown. "You will bring them to me and I shall talk to them. In private as I know the Cardinal would rub this in your face if he knew." Treville was grateful for that small grace and nodded. His men had brought this on themselves after all. "When should I bring them, Majesty?" Louis spent a moment in thought. "I don't want them around here when D'Artagnan is brought in. Make it tomorrow morning. Now go and take care of him, I want my Champion here within the week if not sooner." Treville bowed and left the room. Despite the gravity of the situation, he felt his lips twitching as he thought about D'Artagnan's reaction to Louis's order that he be brought to the palace to recuperate. The lad would be so embarrassed, it would be a delight to witness him try and have the King not fuss over him!


	8. Facing Louis

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of BBC or the Musketeers, I just play with them!**

A/N: Hi all! My apologies for the wait, RL drained inspiration for a while and then I was ill. So I'm trying to get back into things now, hopefully this chapter will help. I will try not to have the wait be so long from now on!

The King was restless and could barely eat after learning of his Champion's ill health and the reason behind it. It was unfathomable to him, completely outrageous that the situation had been allowed to continue until D'Artagnan was incapacitated but in a way, he could understand how notice slipped through the cracks. Athos, Aramis and Porthos were highly respected and D'Artagnan had struck him as a man wanting badly to prove himself worthy of being a Musketeer. The lad had nearly wept when Louis had officially made him a Musketeer after all. But for those closest to him to contribute to his ill health... what could've possibly led to this? What excuse could the Inseparables _possibly_ give?

The young king slept fitfully that night, rose early in a bad mood and then spent a good hour pacing and almost ranting to his Queen about the situation. His anger was such that he was sorely tempted to forego his promise to Treville and shame the trio in front of the entire Court but he didn't want to deal with the Cardinal's well-placed barbs and humiliating his old fox on top of it. But that didn't mean that he would spare the Inseparables in private.

The hours seemed to crawl as he awaited the four. _Finally_ , they were brought into the royal chambers. Treville looked stoic but his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil; he looked like he hadn't sleep well either.

The Inseparables stood at attention and although they had good poker faces, their body language betrayed their nervousness. Even Athos looked uncomfortable, though his usual cold mask was still there. Louis decided to let them stew for a moment while he got an update on D'Artagnan. He didn't even look at the trio as he beckoned Treville forward. "What news, my old fox? How fares my Champion?"

"Recovering, sire but it will be a very slow process, I think. He was moved but flustered upon learning of your interest in this affair." Louis felt his lips twitch at the thought of D'Artagnan's embarrassment. His Champion still wore his heart on his sleeve, it was one of his most endearing qualities. "Understandable. Our D'Artagnan is very modest and pure of heart, 'tis one of the reasons he is worthy of his rank... unlike some that I will not name. And the arrangements I asked you about?"

Treville smiled. "He protested but was honored yet again." Louis smiled this time, unable to help himself. "Good. Please let him know that my love and I have a surprise for him as well. I truly think it is one he will enjoy and don't worry, my fox, this time I didn't go overboard. Anne agreed with me, right, my dear?"

"Indeed, my love." Anne said with a soft smile. Treville looked relieved and nodded.

"Now," Louis turned to face the Inseparables, his tone going from jovial to stern. "On to more unpleasant business... Pray tell me, my Inseparables... why should I not strip all three of you of your ranks and exile you from Paris forever, branded traitors and left for the carrion?"

All three men barely flinched and paled. "Yes, traitors. For you have _abused_ not only a fellow Musketeer but _my Champion_. A boy who looked up to you and has remained ever loyal... and you thanked him by abusing his trust and treating him only slightly better than a servant. And all because he was so eager to please that you took full advantage. Sending him to take care of your messes, fetch and carry all manner of things for you, depriving him of sleep and food on the excuse of training and missions. D'Artagnan is not an automaton yet you have treated him like one for months until he was on the brink of collapse! When would it have stopped? Or would it have?"

Aramis suddenly remembered D'Artagnan partially complaining, "This whole... D'Artagnan, the apprentice Musketeer thing... how long does it last?" He'd laughed and said, "Well, as long as it's fun!" His conscience zinged him and he winced. D'Artagnan must've thought they'd enjoyed the past months and done it deliberately. And when had it gone from being for fun to being a routine?

"You have something to say, Aramis?" The medic cursed at forgetting where he was and decided to confess. "Your Majesty... we've been trying to figure out why D'Artagnan hadn't spoken up before and I've just remembered something... he actually did, partially."

"What? When?" Porthos yelped.

"Silence! Continue, Aramis." The monarch's face looked like a thundercloud. Aramis swallowed hard and said, "I can't remember when except that it was at least a few months after he'd become a ranked Musketeer. The two of us were talking one evening while tending our weapons while the others had gone for food and he asked me when we would stop treating him as an 'apprentice Musketeer'." A blush colored his cheeks as shame filled his heart. "I-I laughed and said... 'as long as it's fun'. To my knowledge, it never came up again and somewhere along the line, it went from fun to routine."

"And when he asked you this, how did he sound? Or do you recall that at all?" Louis asked sarcastically. Aramis thought for a moment. "He sounded... exasperated. Tired. _Resigned_." Tears pricked at the Spaniard's eyes. "The conversation died after that."

" _Fool_." The Queen hissed under her breath. "How many times did he truly complain about what you were doing and you brushed him off under the excuse of a joke?"

Porthos stiffened as a fragment of conversation came to him. _'Last time, mind the uniform!'_ D'Artagnan had been mid-duel with him and Athos and he'd been trying to remain clean for once. _'It doesn't look right on you. Too shiny, too new, looks like your ma dressed you!_ ' Porthos had said. They had disarmed him quickly and dragged him through the dust deliberately. Now that he thought about it, D'Artagnan didn't have many clothes at all and he did try to keep them in good form, especially his uniform and pauldron.

"Often." Athos said reluctantly. "But then he stopped, so we assumed that he'd grown a thicker skin."

"No! _He'd_ _ **assumed**_ that you wouldn't stop, so why bother speaking up?!" Anne cried. "And because he was the youngest, his opinion didn't matter, as you so proved!" Then she glared at them, saying, "And I don't doubt that he didn't complain to Treville because Treville would've confronted you... and _you_ would've complained to D'Artagnan and things would've been worse. So the poor boy kept quiet, to the point of the collapse because ultimately, he feared your reactions!"

Treville 'hmphed'. "Indeed, Majesty. If anything, he fears Athos most of all. When he heard that Athos was getting impatient for their most recent spar, he dashed out of my office so quick that I thought he was being chased by a demon. However, his fears were well-founded because _Athos_ deliberately fought him until he was trembling all over from fatigue. And Athos would've continued and probably injured the boy if I hadn't been watching and called a halt."

"We were about to stop it!" Aramis said desperately. Treville sent the medic a poisonous glare and retorted, "You should've stopped it when D'Artagnan signaled he'd had enough. But you didn't. Don't try to justify your actions, it won't do any good. The boy thought Athos was angry enough to injure him, that should tell you enough right there."

"You are all confined to the garrison, no missions. _No pay_ either for two months, let's see how _you_ like wondering where _your_ next meal will come from and getting worked to the bone in the process." Louis hissed. "Once he is better, D'Artagnan will be Lemay's apprentice _and_ my personal bodyguard until he is fully recovered and able to resume as a Musketeer. He will be given all previously denied opportunities to learn diplomacy, court etiquette and intrigue. All the things that you, my cowardly _former_ Comte de la Fere," Athos paled nearly fish-white. "should've taught your protégé once he became _my Champion_. If he ultimately decides not to be a Musketeer, on your heads be it for you have disgraced your regiment and your Captain. I am ashamed of you and it will take a long time or a miracle before I trust you as I once did, though I will not speak for D'Artagnan's feelings. Now get out of my sight, I don't want to hear about you three unless absolutely necessary. Get out before I take my sword to you!"

With all possible haste, the trio left. Treville remained, feeling a great weight on his shoulders. Overwhelmed, he sank to his knees before his sovereigns. "Majesties, I must apologize. I have failed you as well. You would be within your rights to strip me of my position but I will accept any punishment."

"Stand, Treville." Louis said impatiently. When the older man was once more on his feet, Louis gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "There will be no punishment. You did the best you could, especially since your attention was split between the palace and garrison. When you saw the depth of the wrongs done to our D'Artagnan, you took steps to rectify it and notified me, as you should have. Now I will share your burden so that our D'Artagnan may recover and resume his service to the crown in all capacity."

Tears pricked Treville's eyes. He hadn't expected to be forgiven and didn't feel that he deserved it. The Queen approached and took his head. "You are making amends, Treville and you have our support. Perhaps that will be enough to bring D'Artagnan out of this dark place that he has stumbled into due to others' negligence and his own lack of self worth."

"I would certainly hope that it would be enough, my love." Louis said as he grimaced. "Otherwise our plans to have him be godfather to our coming child as well as my bodyguard will be for nothing, won't it?"

Treville blinked a few times and then his jaw dropped; he was literally speechless and the two young monarchs had a great laugh at his expense. "Y-Your Majesties... t-truly?!" His eyes fell to the Queen's stomach, which was still flat and she giggled. "It is just recently confirmed by Lemay, Treville but we do not wish to announce it just yet. Lemay estimates perhaps two to three months, so the babe will be born December or early January. Personally, I am wishing for a Christmas gift."

Treville stammered congratulations before taking a seat at Louis' behest to recover his wits. The Queen pregnant... and his boy would be the godfather! _'Oh, my boy, you have much to look forward to!'_

"Pardon, Treville?... Your boy...?" Treville flushed upon realizing that he'd spoken aloud. "Pardon, Majesty, a mere moment of fancy." He tried to brush it off but Louis was looking stubborn. Again. Treville sighed and said, "While he was delirious, D'Artagnan woke to find me at his side. As I encouraged him to recover, he called me... Papa. I don't know if he thought his father, God rest his soul, was with him again but ever since then... my feelings have turned quite paternal."

Louis looked pleased. "Yet another thing to celebrate, it seems! I have always regretted your wish to not have children or a wife, Treville. Perhaps D'Artagnan can fill that gap for you." Treville took the words with a grain of salt but deep in his heart, the yearning took hold. _'Get well soon, my boy. You do not know what new and grand things await you or that you deserve them completely!'_


	9. Outside at Last

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing of the Musketeers, as much as I would wish to!

D'Artagnan bit back a tired moan as he attempted to get up from the bed and walk. He may have been newly recovered from the fever but who knows how long he'd been in bed?! Hang what Lemay had said about resting! Athos wouldn't accept the excuse that he'd been ill for long and the younger man didn't want to push what little leniency Lemay may have encouraged from the Musketeers for this occasion. He would show that he was strong and could push through inconveniences like this with no trouble; He would prove that he was worthy of his pauldron and the King's regard as his Champion. Not to mention that he was to live in the palace soon, he couldn't bring dishonor to the regiment or the King by being weak! A voice that sounded almost like Athos hounded him in his mind, urging him to move, to walk even though his body was screaming at him with it's shaking muscles and the overwhelming urge to sleep haunting the other part of his mind.

Unfortunately, D'Artagnan didn't realize that the voice of his mentor was brought on by his own fears as well as the long-term neglect and abuse the Inseparables had obliviously subjected him to for months. He'd been conditioned to think less of himself and his health nothing to worry about, the only thing that mattered to him was the approval and notice of the Inseparables. The words Athos would spit out when drunk, frustrated or angry with D'Artagnan had festered in the heart of a boy desperate for acceptance and family after the abrupt loss of his father and the teasing affection given in the light of day had reinforced this unhealthy way of thinking to the point that to disappoint Athos or the others was the absolute worst. To have their regard even for a moment, be it to complain or smile, was the height of his day.

It would take a while for the young man to realize the damage that he had suffered mentally and emotionally, then to recover from it. The first big step was for him to realize that how the Inseparables had treated him was wrong, that he deserved better and was constantly growing as a Musketeer. That he was truly valued by the Captain and King through his own efforts, not just that he went on missions with the Inseparables and got the glory through their presence alone. It would be a long and hurtful process.

For now, D'Artagnan was clinging to the bedside table, his legs shaking but his face determined. His goal was to walk out that door and see what was going on outside. But before he could do more than lift his foot to step forward, the door opened. Treville of all people stepped through and then froze upon seeing his boy out of bed and looking ready to collapse any second. "My boy, what are you doing out of that bed? I thought Lemay said that you were to rest a while longer!"

A blush colored D'Artagnan's pale cheeks at being caught but then he frowned, almost pouting. "I'm well enough to help out with some of the chores at least, Captain. I won't be a dead weight that needs to be waited on like a milksop noble. What would my brothers think if they knew I was staying in bed all day?"

Treville nearly rolled his eyes. "They would think that you were recovering and that is on doctor's orders, lad."

D'Artagnan made a helpless gesture with his hand, swaying on his feet. "Captain, I'm going crazy shut up in here! Can't I at least sit outside? I miss the sun!"

Treville could understand that; the boy was a former farmer from Gascony after all. "Very well, you will sit on one of the benches where Serge can watch you. Come, I will help you." He walked forward, hands already out to take the younger man's weight off his tired legs.

D'Artagnan tried to protest and move around his Captain but that sudden movement proved to be the end of his endurance, such as it was. As he made the first step, his leg gave out and there was the terrifying sensation of falling and knowing that it would hurt.

"Whoa there, son, easy!" Thankfully, Treville caught him before he could do a face-plant on the hard wood floor. D'Artagnan blushed even harder as his Captain placed one of his arms around his strong shoulders and kept his other hand firm around his hip. "I will not carry you but there is no shame in asking for assistance. You know that."

"I'm sorry, Captain. I'm not used to being weak like this." D'Artagnan wouldn't look at him and Treville's blood boiled as he muttered, "No, you're used to having to fend for yourself."

"Captain?" Treville shook his head. "'Tis nothing, my boy. Come, let's get you out in the sun. Serge will have your broth and bread ready once you're sitting down."

The blush refused to leave D'Artagnan's face as the Captain helped him outside. It felt like all eyes were on him, though that wasn't true. His body was tense; although he didn't know it, he was waiting for Athos to call out and ask what was going on, which would lead to a reprimand. If D'Artagnan was honest with himself, he probably wouldn't have been able to tolerate such a thing today.

As luck would have it, Aramis was mending a saddle just outside the stable when Treville brought D'Artagnan out, The Musketeers tending their horses around the medic voiced their pleasure at seeing 'the lad' out and about. Heart skipping a beat, Aramis looked in the general direction they were indicating and there was D'Artagnan, sitting on a bench and his head tipped up toward the sky. His eyes were closed and he was clearly enjoying the sun's rays. He looked pale and Treville was standing a few feet away, a concerned look focused on the younger man.

Aramis's instincts as a medic urged him to go over and make sure that D'Artagnan was truly on the mend but he didn't dare risk it. Treville had said that D'Artagnan would be the one to decide if he wanted to associate with the Inseparables from now on and no matter how much it rankled, Aramis didn't want to get into further trouble. He didn't know what else to do other than follow orders at this point in order to show his remorse and penance. At night, he'd begged God's forgiveness until his voice was hoarse and his throat hurt, his fingers constantly touching his rosary. He'd never felt such shame in all of his life, he truly didn't know how he would make up for everything or if he even could. His carefree, teasing outlook had finally come back to bite him, only it wasn't an angry husband that had brought him low; it had been the person he should've protected as the little brother he'd claimed him to be and those who had the lad's back. Now he was separated from said little brother and it hurt almost as badly as what had happened with his brothers at Savoy. Only this was partially his own doing, that made it even worse.

As Aramis stewed in his guilt and grief, Serge came out to bring D'Artagnan food and generally fussed over him. After the boy had eaten at least a little, a few other Musketeers came over to greet him and wish him well. They noticed how tense D'Artagnan was initially at their greeting and were confused for a moment. Then they recalled how Athos would sometimes stalk over to the boy and bark at him for 'slacking off' if he caught D'Artagnan sitting on a bench like this. Anger boiled in their veins yet again but they pushed it back so that they could speak to D'Artagnan and give him the latest gossip.

Of course, nothing was said about the Inseparables but D'Artagnan just assumed after a while that the trio had been sent off on a mission, which wasn't unusual. Without being obvious about it, his fellow Musketeers kept D'Artagnan's attention well away from the stable where they knew Aramis was 'working'. Once the medic was done with mending the tack, those near him didn't take any chances and quickly pulled him out of sight. Once they released him, Aramis glared at them. "I wasn't going to approach, there was no need for that!"

Damien and Leandre, younger sons of a lesser noble, glared right back. "From what Treville has said, D'Art won't even be able to tolerate hearing your voice, never mind seeing your sorry face. You saw how he reacted when the others called out to him, he was afraid that it was you or one of the others. That should tell you more than anything how bad it would be for him to even _think_ that he's seen you right now. So, we are going to do our absolute best to make sure that D'Art can relax today. If that means pulling you around corners all day, so be it. Suck it up and deal with it, Aramis, you brought this on yourself!"

The two men then proceeded to pull the medic behind them, heading to the market for needed supplies. Aramis couldn't help but wonder to himself how things could get worse and then could've kicked himself. Things were bound to get worse now and he could only hope that he managed to one day apologize and make real amends.


End file.
